Letting Him Go
by ForgottenMoonbeam92
Summary: Obi-Wan's thoughts after Qui-Gon is killed. RandR!


This is another one I found under the bed covered in dust mice and gum wads and dirty socks. So you'll have to be the judges...I made just a few edits, just grammatical stuff and etc, so it's basically how it was written years ago.

I own nothing, blah blah blah...

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**Letting Him Go**

"Train him," my Master says. "Promise me you will train him. He will bring balance to the Force" Then he falls silent.

"I promise, Master," I say, tears falling onto Qui-Gon's face. My tears. "I promise."

"He is the Chosen One…" Qui-Gon's head falls back, and his fingers fall from my face. I bow my head over his and cry, letting the tears flow freely. He is gone. Forever.

I stand up, my face streaked with tears. Qui-Gon looks so peaceful, lying there on the ground. Almost as if he were asleep, and not dead. The only indication that he is other than what he is, is the perfectly round hole through his stomach. The mark of a lightsaber. The Sith is dead, I have made sure of that. He will not be coming back. And yet, neither will my master. Qui-Gon is one with the Force.

Bending over once more, I pick up my Master with surprising ease. He is not heavy, tall though he is. Perhaps I am stronger than I used to be. I walk off of the narrow platform where my Master met his death and enter the main building. There, I meet Queen Amidala and her Captains. Anakin is nowhere in sight. Amidala stops running towards me as she sees Qui-Gon. Her hand flies to her mouth and her eyes glisten.

"Is he alright?"

She knows he is dead, I can feel it. She merely hopes that perhaps, by some miracle, she is wrong. I shake my head and try to smile consolingly, but my lips are frozen. I am aware of Captain Typho asking me something, but my mind does not register the question. Queen Amidala steps hesitatingly forward, laying a hand on my arm. I move forward, away from her and down the corridor, still carrying my Master.

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin comes running towards me, a smile beaming on his round face. "I just…" he stops as he catches sight of my burden, and the grin slides off his face. "Master Qui-Gon?" his face twists in confusion. "Is he dead?"

I nod, surprised out of my stupor at the boy's bluntness. "Yes, Anakin. He is one with the Force now."

"He still looks like himself, though," Anakin says, his forehead creasing. "He doesn't look like one with anything…why did he have to die?" his face contorts and tears fill his eyes as the realization hits him. Qui-Gon is dead, and nothing can bring him back. "Can't you bring him back with the Force?"

"Nothing can bring back people from the dead, Anakin," I explain, my voice toneless. "Not even Master Yoda can do that."

"But…"

"Not now, Anakin," Amidala has come up behind me. I am grateful for her presence, and for her influence on Anakin. "Come with me now, tell me about your victory."

Anakin is momentarily distracted, though a frown still creases his face. I move forward again, after Amidala and Anakin. The Generals in the army come forward, offering their help, but I shake my head. No help is needed. Moving out onto the hangar bay, I see that there is still fighting going on. I reluctantly give my Master to Captain Typho and ignite my Master's lightsaber. Mine was lost in the fight with the Sith, but I don't really feel its loss anymore. It is easier now than ever to release myself into the Force—I am devoid of emotion, shock still freezing my features into a hard mask. My lightsaber moves mechanically, and it gives me satisfaction to see the remainder of the droids explode under my blade.

"Thank you," I say to Captain Typho, and I retrieve my Master's body from the Captain and move off towards our ship. Amidala is keeping Anakin occupied, for which I am grateful. I take a moment to examine Amidala. She has been through so much, and yet she is so young. No more than fourteen. Only five years older than Anakin, yet her face is impassive as she looks at me; her eyes glow with sympathy and sadness. She should have been a Jedi.

As the ship takes flight I look back through the windows. The main building is fading, and with it the place of my Master's death. Perhaps Darth Maul is falling still, tumbling through space… the thought gives me no satisfaction. None at all. Jedi do not take pride or joy in killing, even when the kill is a Sith Lord. My eyes turn to my Master, lying still on the makeshift bed.

"Obi-Wan…" Amidala has entered my room. She sits down beside me and touches my arm. "You're crying." She is observant—I hadn't noticed that tears still streamed down my face. I wipe them hastily, still childish enough to not want to be seen crying in front of a lady. I nod, and Amidala cocks her head. "I am sorry."

"There is no need to be," I say mechanically. It is the right response, though untrue. "It is the way of the Force. And he is one with it now."

"You truly believe that?" Amidala asks. I think about it for a moment. Do I?

"Yes." I say. "I do. It is the only thing clear to me right now."

"Yes." Silence falls. I don't know what to say, and Amidala plainly doesn't either. She shifts, and I straighten.

"Thank you for your sympathy, Queen Amidala," I say with formality. "But if you wouldn't mind leaving now, I must pay my respects."

"Of course." Amidala stands up and leaves, glancing once behind her with a soft expression. I hear Anakin's inquisitorial voice and then Amidala's gentle one outside before the door slides shut.

There is so much to say, and yet no words to describe what I am feeling. I am alone, alone once again with my Master's body. The time for tears has passed. Jedi do not fear tears, or emotions, merely realize that there are more important things for a Jedi to concentrate on. My face is dry, and expressionless. The true face of a Jedi. But not one I particularly like. This is one thing about the Jedi that I do not wish to bear through my life. To be emotionless…it is not human. I am human.

But, however I feel, the time for tears has passed, and I accept that. Instead, I bow over my Master and meditate, trying to feel him in the Force. It is not easy to find him—not so soon after death. He has not yet become accustomed to his new state, I feel. But then he grows sharper, and I sense him here, with me. I smile softly, knowing that he is pleased. And that means the world to me.

_fin _

Review! Hoo-ray!


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